Concerning Fairy Folks
by the lowkey author
Summary: Norway doesn't agree with how openly England is socializing with his magical friends around the other nations. He fears that England will be looked upon as a lunatic, but when confronting England with this issue, he learns that England fears something else.


Please enjoy! (I don't own Hetalia)

* * *

A magnificent sun was shining over God's green earth this warm May morning. Birds were twitting in the trees and flying mindlessly beneath the single-shade blue sky. But it was Wednesday, so all that didn't really matter. As it were, this Wednesday in particular happened to be the first Wednesday of the month, and that meant another World Conference Meeting. And so, every country on God's green earth had been called to participate. This month's excerpted meeting had been decided to be held at America's place, due to that and that reason, so at the usual time the country-squad had appeared in Washington to fulfil their duties, as they did every month.

The morning's discussion of world affairs had gone quite well. America had been able to stick to the heroic point, Northern Italy managed to keep his pasta abstinence under control and Germany hadn't even lost his scheiße once. Despite France's constant attempts to seduce both Belgium and Spain, Belarus' demonic aura slowly devouring the oblivious Russia and the fact that Austria rehearsed the whole of Beethoven's no°5 against the table top, everyone seemed to stay quite focused on the topic of Environmental improvements. Well, all except Norway. Being in the top two on the 'world's greenest countries' scale he felt confident enough - in his recycling managements and traffic taxes - to scribble absolute nonsense in his notebook and observe the behaviour of the other nations instead. It was a hobby of his, as he never made much noise of his own (over and above those few times when he had to help Denmark contain his plenitude of loud emotions and opinions) Norway had made it a habit to take in the noises of others. Mostly quiet and out of the corner of his eye, but still listening, still observing.

When the morning had past and lunch time came knocking on America's door, there were no more discussions to be made. The large nation (in the body of a large person) took another burger from his unlimited pocket supply and headed, burger first, out the conference hall door.

While seated in the cafeteria, Norway continued with his inconspicuous hobby. The canteen was filled to the brink with the usual groupings. Axis to the left, Allies in the middle, Canada (after years of observing Norway had learned not to be surprised at the sight of the impalpable nation) at a forgotten table in the back, the germanic nations consisting of Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Hungary, Austria and Prussia (for some reason) sat at next to the loud 'everlasting Spanish/Turkish argument' table. Himself and the other Nordics (including that internet bought wannabe country of Sve's and Finland's) had taken their ordinary table in the far off corner.

Norway were poking around in his friend chicken with a bent fork, losing his appetite when a load of Denmark's macaroni cheese ended up in the middle of it (on it's way to Sealand's face). He gave a out a sigh and let the fork slide from his grip, resting his chek in his palm. Denmark the buffoon and Sealand had a minimum food fight going on crosswise above the table, Finland trying to quietly and unsuccessfully make them stop. Suddenly, a high pitched squeak followed by a loud giggle was heard across the cafeteria. Finland jumped out of fright, bumping into Sweden's elbow as he did and accidentally making him empty his spoon full of _clam_ chowder over his white shirt. If it had been anyone but Finland, they would have dropped dead from Sve's ice cold glare. But as it were, the silent softy put his spoon down and began working at the splotch on his chest, while calmly shaking his head at Finland's heartbroken apologies.

The giggles continued so Norway lifted his head from his palm, half knowing what to expect, and glanced over at the middle of the room. It was England, sitting with the other Allies and letting out yet another silly giggle as he once again was smooched by that plump unicorn of his. Not being especially discreet about it, the rest of the room had turned their attention towards him as well as he did a half hearted attempt to getting the unicorn off of him. Norway thought about how weird it must have looked. Except for himself and Romania no one could see the magical creatures that constantly surrounded the Englishman. To them it just looked like he were scratching the ears of thin air and nuzzling noses with nothingness. Though no-one ever said anything about it, Norway could tell that they doubted England's sanity. It was clear as day on Americas face. He tried to look like he didn't take England's "eccentric" outbursts to seriously, but beneath that goofy smile Norway could tell he was worried sick for the mental health of his big brother. As were France and even Germany, who had turned his attention away from Italy to watch with sad eyes. Norway frowned; it wasn't fair. The other nations had no right to judge England the way they did. Every one seemed to have forgotten what a great empire he once was, what power he had had, and in means of magic still did have. To them he was just a silly old man, mostly high with the spirits and not to be taken to seriously. It was infuriating, and even more so that England let them think nothing more of him then to be a simple loon. Why did he have to bring his fairies and flying mint bunny with him to these meetings? Why couldn't he try to maintain the respectable and prideful manors he once had?

* * *

Norway didn't know why he cared so much of what the others thought of England, it wasn't like Romania clenched his fists until ivory white every time unjust looks travelled England's way. Romania didn't seem to care at all. Maybe he felt left out, for even if Romania could see the magical creature, he never had any of his own around. But then again he never did. Well, there was that one period back in the late nineteenth century when he had held the company of bats, but that didn't last very long and Norway was pretty sure that they had been visible to other nations too. But even if Romania didn't have his own unicorn licking his face every half hour that shouldn't make him numb to the fact that one third of their magic trio hade a 'nut-job' stamp on his forehead, even if it was barely noticeable behind those monstrous english eyebrows.

Suddenly remembering that he was attending a World Conference Meeting, Norway cleared his throat and turned to a new page in his notebook to hide his squiggles. The afternoon's topic were Economics, another area that Norway didn't have any problem with, so he continued with his observations. Belgium had switched places with Netherlands to get away from France, who had turned to Spain, who leaned closer to Southern Italy. Souther Italy - not amused by having the tomato bastard inside his personal space - took out his frustrations by repeatedly clicking his pen. That must have messed up Austria's inner metronome as he now struggled to place his fingers correctly in Beethoven's no°6. Regardless of this, the discussions amongst the nations continued. Greece sinking further down his chair for each minute and Sweden towering over Sealand, helping him to take notes. Norway glanced over at Iceland, making sure that his little brother paid attention. It was hard to say if he did, but at least his notebook wasn't full of badly drawn fishes and pathetic attempts of cucurbits.

Tracing his own line of ink to make it a shade darker Norway thought about England. Old, grumpy, soft hearted England. The United Kingdom. Britain the great. The same Britain who now sat in his chair across the large table, smiling like a lunatic because of the fairies that had been playing around with his straggly hair for the last fifteen minutes. Norway felt confusion towards his feelings of responsibility for the Englishman and his tendencies to making a fool out of himself. It wasn't his business. It wasn't like they had a special kind of relationship with a solemn promise to watch each other's backs. It was true that Norway was forever grateful for the help he received during WWII, and still sended England a adequate christmas tree every year, but that was the only communication they had really. England didn't even send him a christmas card in return. So why did it bother him so much? Norway kept darkening the ink lines in his notebook. What had started out as short sets or runes were now a barely readable mash of thick dark lines, much like England's eyebrows. Norway gave himself a mental slap and put his pen down.

* * *

He had to talk to him. Even if the rest of the meeting had proceeded without much of a interference - the flying mint bunny had nibbled on England's ear at one point making the the nation shrug quite violently and once again swat at 'nothing' in med air - Norway couldn't let England embarrass himself in public anymore.

Afterwards, when the sun was setting and the meeting had ceased for the day, Norway took his time collecting his papers. Deliberately delaying himself and letting the Buffoon and the other Nordics go on without him. Finland had noticed half way out the door that they were one man short and had made halt, but one look in Sve's direction from Norway and the tall nation had placed a firm hand on his wife's shoulder, letting him know that everything was in order. Finland looked confused as he followed Sweden and Norway thanked the spirits for the none verbal way of communication he and Sve had developed during their time together. He let his indigo gaze swoop over the room. England was standing amongst the other Allies, lecturing a nonchalant America who just laughed and patted England quite hard on the back. England sighed and gave his briefcase a last fiddle before following his former colony out the door. Norway, standing like a wall flower by his pushed in chair, gave a slight cough. England stopped in his tracks and turned to face what he thought had been an empty conference hall, leaving a oblivious America talking to himself as he left the room.

"Norway", he said, not noticeable surprised, and straightened his posture. Norway felt how his collar grew tighter. What was he doing? "Sorry, did you want something?" Norway did his best to keep his usual emotionless expression as he turned his cold gaze towards England, who had found a delicate fairy sitting on his shoulder, casually dangling her legs.

"We need to talk", Norway said with a serious voice. "about the fairy folk."

England, who didn't seem to have caught the seriousness, gently tucked a strand of the fairy's bright blue hair behind her pointy ear and answered with all simplicity in the world. "Is that so?"

"Yes, England", Norway wasn't sure how to go on. "the fairies, they..."

"Marvellous little creatures, aren't they?" England smiled and caressed the chin of his fairy, whom happily leaned into the touch.

Norway watched with envy for a second before regaining focus "Yes...no! Yes, but that isn't what this is about." He let go of his chair. "It can't go on like this England, a conference meeting is no place for fairies or flying bunnies or love sick unicor..."

"Bunny", England corrected him and looked up from his fairy friend. "There is only one bunny." Norway clenched his fists in frustration.

"Not the point. None of them are supposed to be here. Offices and conference meetings are not a fitting environment for magical creatures."

"Oh, I don't know about that Norway. I usually attracts a lot of attention from my friends whenever I keep a powwow. And to be honest, it wouldn't be much of a powwow if I didn't." He gave a chuckle and Norway's frustration grew.

"A incantation revel is not the same thing as a World Conference Meeting you buffoon! We are here to tie bonds between countries, to help each other out and to make the world a better place. Your fairies have no place nor function here. All they do is making you look like a mad man infront of everyone." Norway felt his cheeks burn as he had let a little to much feeling slip through and crossed his arm over his chest to contain his calm. England had frozen in a motion to once again stroke the fairy's hair (so the fairy had taken it in her own hands to rub her head against his extended finger) and those ridiculously shrubby eyebrows of his had shot up towards his hairline. He blinked. Once. Twice. And after the third time his emerald gaze flickered underneath his eyelids he gave a sad smile.

"A mad man you say...", he let his hand fall to his side (to the fairy's great despair, whom flew after it and nuzzled his palm). "Is that what I am to you lot? An insane old man?" He turned his palm upwards so the fairy could sit down in it.

"You are beginning to act like one, yes." Norway felt a sting of pity at speaking those words. "Don't you see how it must seem to the others? You, constantly laughing at nothing, patting mid air and talking to yourself. Anyone would take a person like that for a mad man." England didn't reply, he watched how the fairy in his hand made herself comfortable, curling up as a glowing little sphere. "But you're not! You are not mad England. So why must you act like it? Don't you understand that your value as an ally and nation decreases if you're not capable of functioning as a normal being?" Norway just wanted to shake some sense into the numb nation infront of him. England wasn't mad, and for every one to believe so wasn't right.

"Do you think that I am mad?" England asked, as calmly as ever. Norway didn't know how to respond. England wasn't mad. But for letting everyone think he was showed some sort of insanity.

"You do, don't you." It wasn't a question. England carefully placed the now sleeping fairy in his left chest pocket before looking up at Norway, hurt in his eyes. "You think that I am an embarrassment for socialising with creatures you can't see." he let his briefcase slip from his fingers and fall to the floor. Beginning to walk towards Norway.

Slightly startled Norway responded "I... I can see them."

"You think that I am making a fool out of myself", England was calm, but for some reason that wasn't much of a consolation at the moment. "...and being mad for doing so."

Norway was confused, "I don't... I can see them too." and England kept coming closer. Another fairy now curiously inspecting his occupied pocket.

"I can see them", he was so close that another step would make him walk straight into Norway. Norway took a disoriented step backwards as England almost bumped into him. "England I can see..." he lost his words when firm hands griped his upper arms, holding him in his slightly backward (and very uncomfortable) leaning position. Confused indigo met aching emerald. Norway searches England's eyes for some sort of explanation, feeling a lump building inside his throat.

"I can see them." His voice sounded hoarse and he tried his best to swallow it away, pretty sure that his larynx could be seen from the moon.

"I wonder...", England whispered. "...if you really can anymore." A pitiful tone to his voice. Norway just wanted to shove the older nation of him. What right did he have to doubt him? Just because Norway didn't cuddle fairies and snog unicorns during world meetings didn't mean that he couldn't see them. He and his fairies had a good relationship. They stayed were they felt they belonged, and left Norway to mind his work and responsibilities as a nation.

"Of course I can!" He spat. "I can see that dumb fairy of yours by your left pocket just fine you numskull!" England blinked.

"By my left pocket..?" He turned his head left and right before finally looking down at his suit pocket. The fairy losing all interest in her sleeping friend and flying up to fondle England's cheek in her tiny arms. He smiled and carefully leaned in to her hug. Staying there for a moment before chuckling and leaning the other way as well, as if into the arms of nothingness.

England let out a happy but somehow sad sigh and smiled. "Did you know that Japan could se magical creatures as well at one point?" He opened his green eyes and let them pierce Norway. "It was a long time ago now, I met them once when I was over to visit. Nice spirits, very polite." his smile turned sad. "They told me. They told me that Japan one day hade stopped talking to them." his irises looked unnaturally lustrous in the fluorescent light. "That he had forgotten about them. And that one day he had been oblivious to the very idea that they had ever existed in the first place." A single drop broke free from the watery mess in England's eyes and rolled down his cheek. The fairy looked with distress between the salty tear and England's wet eyes. She used her small hands to wipe the evil tear away and tried to comfort her big friend by patting his temple.

"I couldn't do that to them!" The tears kept coming. "I could't..." His head dropped and he let out a sob. The grip on Norway arms tightened and he bit his lip in pain.

"He forgot about them Norway. He took them for granted and forgot about them." Norway could feel England shaking. He hadn't had a clue that Japan had been able to speak with spirits, he wasn't even aware that it was possible for someone to lose that ability.

"I couldn't do that to them." He raised his head, cheeks soaking wet. "I could never do that to them!" Norway didn't know what to do. Not since he lost America to the revolutionary war had anyone seen England cry, let alone Norway.

"I can't lose them", looking as if he was drowning in his own tears England kept on whimpering. "I've lost so much already...not them. Oh god, please not them!" As the little fairy seemed to be at the point of breaking due to England's sadness, Norway's heart cracked. Trying to comfort the mess of a nation infront of him he took hold of his suede dressed elbows, the only part he could reach from his awkward position.

"Hei", he said, pulling gently on the Britons sleeves. "Your are not going to lose any one. You, me and Romania, we all believe in fairies, right?" They looked into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity before the grip on Norway's left arm loosened. He looked down on his arm, only to have his cheek mildly caught in England's palm.

"I am afraid, my dear", the warmth of the other nations hand against his face felt weirdly comforting. "that you don't." A new flood of tear begun to build in those green eyes, but England forced them back. "And unfortunately haven't for quite some time."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion swirled around in Norway's head. "I have no problem with my fairies..." His voice died as England leaned closer.

"Don't you?" The hand on his cheek had moved to the back of his head, holding it still as England slowly closed the gap separating them. Placing his lips, light as if they had been made out of feathers, right between Norway's eyes. When the surprise of what was happening let go, he could feel himself blushing; like Finland whenever Sve would kiss him in public. Though this was nothing like that, Norway couldn't help but feel that it would be nice if it was. And then it was over, as soon as it had happened. England's lips were gone, his hand fell from Norway's neck and the grip on his remaining arm disappeared. Norway just stood there for a moment, lingering in what had just occured. He raised one hand slowly to touch the spot where England's lips been just seconds before, the warmth of his breath still on his skin. And as he opened his eyes, focusing on his hand, he swore he could see sparkles. Which he could. When he lifted his gaze to look at England, his breath left him, like a blow to the chest. All around, not just England but the whole room was filled with magical creatures. The fairy who had been drying England's tears had benen accompanied by four others that were now tugging at his blond hair, the flying mint bunny circulating him like he was a roundabout and a couple of Pillywiggins dancing on his shoes. The plump unicorn was in the corner of the room, eating on the plastic plant together with a odd looking little horse, standing on its rear legs. The air was full of small snow flake like creatures, incredibly white with hats that looked much like the one Finland wore on Christmas. A short man, presumably a dwarf, handed England a handkerchief to dry his tears. And another one, a chubby old man with a colourful garment and withered wings, drunkly moved around upon the table, beside an equally drunk Leprechaun who spun around, for all he was worth, upside down on his pointy hat.

The creatures were everywhere and of every kind. Kinds Norway had forgotten existed. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, to let the fairies pulling on his clothes to drag him into a mindless dance through the night, and get as drunk as the Portune fiddling with the leftover water bottles. But he couldn't, he had no right. All he could do was to watch the wondrous beings around him, and feel ashamed.

"We are countries", England's voice broke through to him. "and that is not a task to be taken lightly upon." A somewhat larger fairy (of a kind Norway had never seen before) flew up to England holding a bright purple flower, which he accepted with a smile.

"We have duties and responsibilities towards our citizens and each other. But also towards our heritage. If we forget who we were, how are we going to learn from our mistakes? The same mistakes that made us what we are today." Norway lifted a hand to the cross shaped pin in his hair, thinking back to his Viking days with Denmark and Sweden.

"And just as a country is as strong as its people, your magic is as strong as your belief in it." England smiled as the flower fairy came back once more with new flowers, but instead of giving them to him, she wanted his approval. And as soon as she had it, she flew over to Norway with four small flower. Every single one with its own shade of blue. She placed them in his trembling hands and he tried to bite back the burning of tears as she smiled. England was right, of course he was. How could he ever been so stupid to let this go? The marvellous wonders of magic. A curtain of salty water blurred his vision, as he heard England addressed him from the hallway.

"And Norway", he sounded slightly amused, briefcase in one hand and the dwarfs handkerchief still in the other. "You are trolling."

Cursing a silent "jævlar" under his breath, Norway turned around to find his faithful companion out and about. With a sad smile on his large bearded face he was a sight for the sorest of eyes, which in this case belonged to Norway. Letting the tears flow he threw his arms around the misty goofball, snuggling his face against his neck; not caring about England's stupid snickering in the distance.

* * *

This is my first fanfic what so ever, so please tell me what you think. Good or utter rubbish? Did you enjoy it? Please tell me if you did (or if you didn't), and why, it would make me so happy!

And about the flowers in end, there is such a thing as a flower language, and what better way of comminucation than flowers for Peri-fairies? Any how: one purple flower mean _'you are my everything and I wish you all the fortune and happines in the world'_ , while four blue flowers mean _'I look up to you and are grateful, I would like to remain by your side until death do us part'_.

And just because I'm a cryptozoology nerd... the part when England kiss Norway between the eyes. In Nordic mythology it is believed that spit from a mythological creature can be used to make them visible for a person, if smeared into the eyes.

Thank you so much for reading!


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